Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cali walked onto set buoyed by her impromptu burger chat with Jory the night before. It seemed as though there was a human in there. A human who made jokes and could be teased and could tease back. A super-hot, deeply talented, sexy human. Surprise, surprise.
When she first saw him that morning, he dipped his head in a nod accompanied by a shy smile. It was as though a breeze blew through her, soft and warm. A harbinger of better things to come. Throughout the morning, she found herself staring at him while he worked, how his long, strong fingers delicately handled a lens, the easy stance of his legs as he inspected the lighting grid, the patience in his tone as he worked with Alison, his camera assistant. He always found time to explain an angle, to discuss a shot, never too busy to take a moment. Cali also noted the ease with which he talked to Melanie, strong in his opinions but deferential to hers. He was confident in his roll, happy to teach or collaborate.
Now, he stood alone, considering the scene—a shadowy bar lit to feel sexy and dangerous. The action had Paolo/Rafe chatting up a woman when he gets a phone call from his senior operative. It’s the first hint that Paolo/Rafe isn’t just a server being tormented by the demon Thalia/Anna. Jory was considering where to put his camera next, serenity coursing through him like a powerful current, a force field erected around him to repel any unwanted distractions. The crew kept their distance, which gave her an unadulterated view of his thighs straining against his jeans, his T-shirt hugging his toned shoulders, his forearms flexing as he raised them behind his head to stretch.
He nodded slightly to himself, a decision made, and his body uncoiled into movement. He dropped one hand from his head while dragging the other through his hair as he walked away. Cali felt her internal muscles clench and she arched her back to relieve the tension, unable to stop herself from moaning, “Oh my God.”
“I know, it’s ridiculous.”
Cali jumped. Joanne stood beside her, rummaging through her giant makeup bag. Cali sat up straighter in her chair, fixing her perfectly fine T-shirt that suddenly rubbed rough against sensitive skin. “Sorry?”
“I mean, he’s not my type. But empirically, yeah, he’s ridiculous.” Joanne cracked her gum and sauntered toward set.
Cali bit down on her tongue. Get it together, Daniels. You can’t have the crew clocking your lust for the DP.
Speaking of the crew, there was an odd vibe to them today. A change in energy. Thinking back on yesterday’s conflict, she wondered what had pushed Jory into such a volatile space. He seemed so contrite at the burger joint and now his stance was easy, relaxed. But the crew appeared unsure of whom to listen to—her or Jory—for the answers to their questions, settling on neither. She would have to remedy that.
Cali pulled out her phone, staring at the innocuous outgoing text she’d sent her sister last night: You good? It hadn’t been returned. Patsy went radio silent for two reasons—a translation wormhole or a bender caused by a breakup. When Cali had left, Patsy had just been hired by the university to translate a history of Cyprus from an ancient Greek text, so maybe she was deep in it, oblivious to the world.
Or she’d gotten drunk, passed out in front of their building, and had been eaten by raccoons. Toronto raccoons were no joke.
When Cali looked up from her phone, Jory was frowning at her, concern on his face. The moment she caught him, he jerked quickly away and went back to the camera he’d just left to check the focus. Again.
Cali shook her head to get back in the game. What was happening? Ah yes, Paolo’s disastrous acting.
It was a simple scene. Paolo flirts with a woman, gets a phone call from a mysterious male voice who informs him his orders have changed due to the termination of Agent Twenty-Nine, his best friend. Paolo had to start with charm, go covert, and end in shock within a few moments.
He was awful.
Charm was good. Covert was fine, if only because blank looks came naturally to him. But the moment he had to show emotion over the death of his friend and colleague, he’d start laughing. Or forget his line. Or awkwardly shift out of frame. By the eighth take he was blathering, “No, it’s cool, it’s cool. I can do this. Seriously. Sorry, everybody. I can do this. Seriously.”
Cali was running out of ideas.
Her heart went out to Paolo. He reminded her of what she was like at the beginning of her career—terrified, bumbling, hoping no one would notice her lack of experience. Her first directing gig had been on a no-budget horror film with tons of gratuitous BDSM scenes. On the first setup, she blithely told the grizzled DP which lens to use. The guy had been in the business forever and that shitty movie was his last gig. He’d pulled her aside out of earshot of the crew to tell her the lens she chose might make the actors on the spanking bench look like they were in a fish bowl. Before Cali could bluster out a reply, he gently and kindly guided her through the various options, effectively teaching her under the guise of collaboration.
She blushed at her audacity in those early days and relived the rush of gratitude that she’d met such a generous mentor out of the gate. She still sent clips of her work to him, for advice and praise, even though he lived happily on a beach in Costa Rica.
But who was there for Paolo?
She searched around the set for inspiration on how to help him. What if she got him to do some acrobatics with his drink? Or a sleight-of-hand trick with the coaster to impress the girl … The whispers of an idea tickled her ear.
“We gotta move on,” Jory rumbled.
Not an idea tickling her ear—Jory. She fought a shiver. “I want one more take.”
“I have enough footage to work around him.”
“I think he can do it.”
“I don’t know why.” Jory sank into his chair with a harrumph. He kept his volume low as the crew did their final checks. “He doesn’t have the chops. Let’s move on.”
She could feel Paolo’s fear and embarrassment through the lens and knew he was on the brink of shutting down. “He can do it. I just haven’t given him the right cue.”
On the monitors, Paolo wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. Joanne batted his hand away, trying to powder his failure glow while he dodged her with a scowl. Joanne put her hands on her hips and gave him a mom stare that could melt glass. He petulantly sat still.
Jory grunted in annoyance. “We could be here all day, and you wouldn’t get anything different.”
Maybe Jory was right. It wasn’t important to help Paolo out. He was just the studio hire after all. She shouldn’t feel any responsibility for him.
Still, why couldn’t Jory open himself up to the possibility that something new and unexpected might happen?
“We should give him a chance.”
“We’ve given him eight,” he huffed out.
Crew began to congregate around the monitor; her conversation with Jory was drawing attention. Cali got up out of her chair and tipped her head for Jory to follow. She stopped just off to the side, at the window looking into the bar. The frame was covered with a thick masking that allowed the lamps to shine through to emulate streetlight, and also gave them a modicum of privacy while they could still watch what was happening on set.
Cali turned to Jory. “From the first take, you’ve been making adjustments to the angle because you’re positive he’s going to fail. He picks up on that.”
Jory snorted. “I don’t think he would pick up on a nuclear explosion.”
“Don’t these work - around shots mess up your tone ?” She snapped her mouth shut. She shouldn’t have said that. Her jibe was highly inappropriate and out of character. “Sorry. That was … sorry. I just want him to succeed.”
“That’s sweet.” Cali’s hackles rose at his condescension. “Those shots are what got us through his bad acting before you showed up. There’s no diamond in the rough here. ”
Cali watched Paolo muttering to himself on set, probably trying to psych himself up for the next take. “Anyone would be scared knowing their failure was flushing thousands of dollars down the toilet every minute they didn’t deliver. Some actors need support.”
“You know what kind of schedule we’re on here. Actors who work in TV should be able to perform on a dime,” he chided.
Jory knew Paolo was flailing but his indifference, his disdain for Paolo’s weakness cut Cali to the core. Maybe Jory didn’t know what it felt like to be the one everyone knew was screwing up, what it felt like to have no one there to help. She was suddenly desperate for him to listen to her, not only for Paolo’s sake, but to find some understanding of vulnerability within Jory. “I might have an idea that will help.”
“Another idea.” Jory sighed and crossed his arms. “Save your ideas for actors who can use them. We have to move on.”
She’d never get through to him. He would always be a hard ass, never letting in a new idea or inspiration. Sticking to the rules instead of having a heart. The face of her grizzled, teddy bear of a DP flooded her mind—a man who never gave up helping, right up until his last gig with a young, untried director.
Cali dug in. “I want one more take.”
“You’re wasting your time!” Jory threw up his arms. “It’s not you, it’s him. He’s the problem.”
“It is me. I’m the director.” She couldn’t stop her pitch from rising, a sense of powerlessness taking over her common sense. “I have to figure out how to direct him. It’s not the fact that he can’t take direction! ” She barked out the final words, trying to get through.
Suddenly a hush fell over the crew. Cali and Jory snapped their heads up to see why.
There was Paolo, standing on the other side of the window, a few feet away, his face stricken. What Cali had assumed was a wall of masking was in fact a flimsy piece of ND cellophane placed a few feet in front of the flats, allowing anyone to step between them and hear their argument. Cali frantically cast back in her mind to what she’d said, for what he might have heard … and … fuck.
Cali pulled out a shaky smile, hoping she was wrong. “Paolo, I’m glad you stepped back here. I want to do another take.”
“No, that’s cool. I get it.” His jaw turned to granite, his fists clenched.
“Get what?” Cali’s stomach flipped. She knew that look. She’d seen it a million times when Thalia shut him down. A look that was equal parts shame, self-derision and anger. Fuck.
“I’m done.” Paolo dismissed her and focused on Jory. “You got them, right? You got your cover shots?”
Jory nodded warily.
“Great. I’m out.” Paolo turned to leave, his body strung tight.
“Paolo, wait.” Cali put a hand out to stop him. “I think we can get it.”
He wheeled on her, skin red with fury, teeth clenched. “I’m. Out.”
Cali watched helplessly as Paolo stalked off the set, unbuttoning his jacket and throwing it at the wardrobe assistant on his way. The crew went back to their duties, giving Jory and Cali a wide berth. This was catastrophic. Cali had failed him. Even if Cali could convince Paolo she believed in him, it was clear he didn’t believe in himself.
“Can’t take the heat.” Jory shook his head.
She whirled on him, incredulous. “That’s what you want to say right now?”
“That guy’s an asshole.”
Oh, hell no. This could not stand. Any disbelief in her own abilities were extinguished in the protectiveness she felt for that misguided man. She pointed her finger at Jory’s chest and hissed under her voice. “You’re the asshole in this situation.”
“Me?!”
“You can’t do that to an actor. He’s pretending to be a tough guy because he’s actually a sensitive novice who’s being asked to bare his soul in front of your camera with dozens of people standing around judging him. He was stuck, and you just tripled his insecurity because you were impatient. And now he mistrusts the only person willing to help him.”
Jory squared his shoulders to her. “I know when someone can’t get there.”
“And you just made sure he won’t. This “—she gestured between the two of them—“is not your thing. Human emotion—frailty, vulnerability, inspiration—is not your thing. Stick to capturing what everyone else can do, but you can only film. Stay out of my sandbox.”
Cali moved to stomp away but thought better of it. She raised her voice, for whoever listened, keeping her tone professional but making her intention clear. “Jory, I understand you’ve been worried about making our day and I’ve come up with a solution for you. We don’t need that crane shot this afternoon. I’m cutting it.”
Jory’s mouth fell open. “That’s the keystone shot of the episode. I’ve been planning that for days.”
“It’s too complicated. Find another shot to die on.” She walked off, mentally dropping the mic. She’d probably just killed any chance she had of making this two-parter work and would wake up tomorrow in deep regret and worry over her future, but it felt amazing to see the look on Jory’s suckhole face.
As she stormed away, Cali swore she heard glee in Dan’s voice when he practically sang, “Moving on!”